Fallen From Grace
by CaptainTsukiko
Summary: The country of Niver is at war with Jupiter's golden established country, Vdia. In this chaotic mess, Iason's humanity—long suppressed—will surface in the form of a foul mouthed, disgraceful enemy general named Riki. AU, a Drabble series.
1. First Feather

**First Feather**

The roads of the city carried muddy puddles of ruby red blood. The air was pungent with the scent of iron, gun powder and bodies that were either just dead, wounded or just starting to rot. Not a single alive and unharmed man lay on sight in the field.

The women and mothers of children sat huddling together in a shivering, _dirty_ heap, the annoying sound of children and women alike screeching and crying dominated the air. If Iason Mink was any lesser man, he would've pinched his nose in irritation. Thus, he resided in the comfort of the poker face his colleagues so complimented him about.

"War has done fair damages to them, eh, General?" Raoul Am, his current vice-General and previous batch mate of their youthful days, questioned.

Monotonous as always, Iason answered, "Their real fate won't be clear until Jupiter decides what to do with them." Raoul paused, gazing at a bloodied corpse of a child in slight distaste, before responding.

"Better prepare, things are going to much tougher..." His ruby red cape swished as he turned back to the jeep. Probably going back to their base, Iason mused as dust flew around him from the windy gusts.

His sharp and cold blue eyes glanced at the lot of females and children being shooed into their respective prisoner vans. Many of them hollering at the heavens in despair that their God had not kept their families and themselves safe and sound.

_'Peace will never come unless humanity ceases to exist, is that so hard to understand?'_

Iason turned his back to the miserable humans behind him. His pale blond hair shone in the hot afternoon sunlight as he hopped on his respective jeep.


	2. Second Feather

**Second Feather**

The rain poured on hard. Much harder than expected.

The main supply base was in chaos, soldiers running haywire in a frenzy. Apparently upon the electricity going out, the first captain - Orphe Zavi, another one of Iasons older batch mates, was stuck in the elevator.

Quite a hilarious turnout, really. That man needed a dose of karma once in a while.

Iason hid a small smirk as a booming sound filled the fresh smelling cold air, mostly caused by the thunder. Small drops of rain were hitting his face and uniform as he stood by the open window. A small flicker of candlelight was the only companion in his office.

Yesterday's battle was evenly successful on both sides - though the amount of bloodshed and lost supplies were no meagre slap on the wrist. He would need to re-stock and recruit new soldiers soon enough. How troublesome.

Iason sighed and went back to his desk area. The velvet of his seat providing no significant comfort for his aching back.

It was astonishing - how little a reason could start a bloody war. Of course, most of the blame went to Niver for framing Vdia for murdering their crown prince in the first place. Lord knows that they themselves killed him so they had a reason to start this war. Anyone within their reach knew that they were planning to expand their country.

But Jupiter did nothing, no protestations, no confessions - nothing. It's as if the woman was waiting for this to start a war with Niver, as well. Mayhap, she just didn't want to take the initiative. But whatever she was planning on doing, the heavy work went to Iason. And Iason had no refutations.

To be the perfect child; one had to listen their parents after all.

As if on cue, the light came back. Filling the boring and posh space of Iason Minks office room with heavenly white light, followed by cheers and whistles. It seems the electricity came back.

Iason went back to his paperwork, taking the elegantly shaped fountain pen in his slender hands. He had no time to waste.


	3. Third Feather

Since his birth, Iason has only seen war. Raised in the middle of a chaotic time, who could expect more? He could still freshly remember his first battle, won at the green age of fourteen.

* * *

Blood and endless pools of blood is all Iason could see on front of him. It did not particularly look all that distaste-full to him. So far, it could be said that he felt nothing for that. But the dirt..the dirt! Oh, the distasteful sight of dirt!

He absentmindedly kicked a small dirt covered pebble in front of him. What he did not know was, that was not a 'pebble' he just kicked, it was an eye that was gouged out of one of the thousands of men that were killed in this battle.

Women are dirty. Men are dirty. Humans are dirty. _Humanity _is dirty. D-I-R-T-Y. Dirty, dirty, dirty...the word was repetitive mantra on his tongue. Refusing to cease.

His mothers words washed over his numb mind.

"To be pure, to be cleansed of dirt, your humanity must cease to exist. In you shall purity be born, like a lotus rising from the dirty waters it was born within.

Only then you can be truly free. Humanity is full of flaws. You need to be flawless. Flawless-ness is the only thing you're born for. You must live up to it. Make your mother proud, alright?"

Perfection..That was what Iason lived for. He breathed for it. None else occupied his mind.

But the unforeseen future held many dirty secrets of it's own.


	4. Fourth Feather

**Fourth Feather**

Time?

20:12.

Location?

Head office of Nivers army, Red Shark division lodgings.

General Riki pulled back his hair. Hard. The sharp burst of pleasurable pain giving him relief from the ongoing headache. This..was not the time to pull back his head and relax. May it be for even seconds.

That's how Vdias' army was. Enough to give even _**him**_; headaches. He had been up for hours beyond end after all.

Riki's current situation was at a disaster. Even Guys comforting sugar coated words gave him no relief. Before this, Vdia had been advancing north. The border. And beyond that; miles and miles of blue sea.

And talk of 'Water combat?'

Vdias specialty and Nivers weakness.

And now, Vdia was suddenly heading south again. They had been strangely quiet, much to their dread. Then, their leader had come up and decided that a spy was to be sent.

And who had been given the job to infiltrate that countries army ? Him! Oh, they didn't even bat and eye in Zicos direction, the one that was most famous for spy work!

Riki wanted to shout and throw things around in anger. Surely it was all Thors idea. Everyone knew that he was the favourite 'ass licker' of the leader. Plus, they hated each other to their guts.

Now..only the guy with the white beard that lived up in the sky knew what was going to happen to him. He knew with his instincts (what had kept him alive for more than fifteen years..) that he wasn't going to come back alive to Guys loving arms.

This was going to end up in a bloodbath on both sides. A slight shudder went up his spine.

And in middle of this, it was his blood that would flow if he didn't survive this.


	5. Fifth Feather

**Fifth Feather**

The arena stunk with sweat and the iron scent of blood. Many of the injured could have been soldiers mewled and cried with agony as they were hastily carried off to the infirmary.

Iason sat blank faced and stiffly on his shiny iron table, judging every single person within his sight with a sharp gaze. Nothing too new about that, Raoul Am thought.

He heaved a big sigh at the number of applicants gathered. He wagered that, this wasn't going to be over at least until nightfall. And here he hoped to go back early and check on his 'Rose plant' experiment, and see if the blood he had been pouring to the plants instead of water religiously for a month had any effect yet. The blood he extracted from the dead had been very precious, after all. He would be very disappointed if it didn't get him some results.

Many of the competitors ('potential soldiers' to the monitors division heads and the general) were still fighting on. Problematically, the north raiding had to be postponed for this very reason.

The weather wasn't at the least merciful to the lot attending. Humid air and a bunch of malnourished and dehydrated humans weren't exactly the best mix.

Raoul really sighed this time when their newest applicant was thrown off balance and tackled down. The boy lost. But he had some usable strength. Raoul confirmed it and wrote his opinions down.

He looked up to the next entering applicant. Razi Simms..was it? Raoul wagered him to be from the north border; with that striking black hair and similar colored eyes and all. He was slightly disturbed by the boys choice of clothing. Navy turtleneck? In the middle of a hot day? Was he an idiot?

But that wasn't any of relevance to the current situation, he got ready to watch another boring fight.

They boys opponent was twice his size. Muscles like slithering snakes and undefinable lumps under dark skin.

The fight went short and furiously with the boy scoring a perfect first class. Curiously, his opponent didn't look too displeased. There were, of course, some signs of displeasure but they were fabricated. He shot a glance at Iason. They gaze the man was sporting alarmed him.

It was the look of a predator about to corner his prey. He had seen it on the man before, yes, when they bunked their when they were young. Or when when the man had cornered a teacher on when she had made a mistake, or when capturing an enemy successfully with his strategy. But why was it that it made him uncomfortable only now? What was this ominous feeling coiling in the pit of his stomach?


	6. Sixth Feather

**Sixth Feather **

The cold metal of the gun presses against Riki's temple. "Disqualified!" The voice calls out before he can duck the offending object and beat the shit out of the motherfucker who dared to press that little fake thing against him.

Another day, another defeat.

Such was Riki's (oh sorry, he was Razi now, wasn't he..) daily training routine. Defeats and wins. More defeat than win for now. Why, one can ask. Well, it went something like this:

Quinn, after his little opponent from the exam grounds had lost against him, had stupidly decided to meet him up for a small talk. (Their leader had decided to assign two spies, just in case.)

And despite Riki's warnings, the douche had started bitching about their leader "relaxing while they do the leg work for him." Riki had known that this guy was an idiot, but this... This... Ugh. He couldn't even. Maybe they had sent him to die and not still not loose important resources after all.

Soon after Quinn had left, a shiny haired blonde had passed through the dreary area. The guys glare... Dammit, why was he so ruffled up over some guys puny glare? He should be used to this; being glared at by people. Being an ex-pickpocket had it's good advantages. You get to learn how to say, "Fuck You" with just a stare.

And that's just what Riki did. Though he had felt victorious for the first few minutes, the truth had settled on him right after. If he did, how much had the guy listened and figured out?

Riki felt sweat slide down his neck.

It wasn't possible. Quinn had speech impediments that made it hard to understand what he said if you didn't listen hard enough. And the light haired dude was probably just passing by.

But if so, what did that glare mean?

Riki knew it in his bones, he had to contact Quinn and make a run for it to their leader. This very week. Or sooner than that.

* * *

"Iason, how should we deal with that rat?"

"We don't." Iason straightens his back looks straight into Raoul's eyes, "We wait. The 'rat' you speak off has one or more little friends..." Malice drips off his words, and Raoul could feel his body tensing.

"We lay the lure and trap them. All together."

The strange shadows the candles displayed over the walls gave the room a ghostly appearance.


	7. Seventh Feather

**Seventh Feather**

Dust flew around the vast area. It made the field looking akin to a sheer scarf, being draped over your eyes. Mountains in the distance provided a well sought after battle grounds. Or in this case; training grounds for the upcoming battle.

Riki blinked away the sand, that flew into his face. And that had been in vain, for more of the sand settled on top of his eyelashes. Tears leaked from the corner of his eye and he sneezed. Very loud.

"God! They intend to make us train here!?" Calin, his roommate threw his arms up in the air, "I'm going blind just by the sand!"

"Bear with it; they don't pay us for nothing!" Mimea was another of their colleagues, Riki didn't think very much about her, she was pretty much a basic bitch. Except, if rumors were to be trusted, she was vice-general Raoul's little 'pet.' But seeing as scarce as her visits to Raoul's private chamber was - he concluded the rumor to be false.

Riki wiped his sweat as the two continued to argue in the background. His clothes stuck to his back, the rough material he had been forced to wear, made his back itch. All in all, most uncomfortable situation.

He had been unable to contact Katze. His unit leader, back in Nivers army. As captain, he had not been able to get hold of info, and that ate away at his conscience like leeches. And there was the matter with the blonde bastard. His once peaceful dreamy land had turned into hellish nightmares in a matter of days.

All because of him.  
It made him sick to give a ass licking bow to the guy in the hallways. But, he had no choice in the matter. He had to do it. Or otherwise... He took a tentative glance at the shiny haired man. Blue eyes glaring expressionless rays, at a horde of idiots that shook like cowards, trying to aim a shot to the bulls eye.

He had found out in in his daily dosage of gossip; this guy was the head honcho. The one that all Vdia obeyed without question. His some -very amusing- nicknames included: Ice prince, Head H, (very literal) Devils advocate.

(Excluding 'queen bee,' that is.)

Maybe it was by sheer coincidence; but the guy looked straight at him when he finished that line of thought. Riki turned his face away in an instant, refusing to look at his eyes. Little Shivers, that he tried to ignore, shot up his spine. His hairs stood up at the back of his neck, much to his chagrin.

And he glared into the ground as substitute, then kicked a pebble away with more force than intended.

...Why must bad bullets always hit him in the eye?

Iason moved over to a much more shaded spot. The heat made his uniform feel like chain mails. Raoul barked at a shaking subordinate, who had accidentally shot at the trainees. Iason glanced at his watch, why was he at this dreary place anyway? He should've been back at the main base, strategizing.

Why, indeed...

He stared straight at the black haired rat, who in turn tried to hide that he had been, in fact, checking Iason out.

Iason smirked. Pearl whites shining like silver in the sun.

Why, indeed.


	8. Eighth Feather

**Author's Note: **

Lately I found my writing style change, and not exactly in the good way, I think. The numerous single lines annoy me to utmost limits. I'm trying my hardest to get rid of it, but.. Anyways, what do you think? Good, bad?

* * *

**Eighth Feather**

Riki could feel his feet numbing.

This shouldn't be happening.

No. No. No.

Quinn's hands were roped to a wooden cross. His eyes were bloody and bruised. Eye sockets - empty. Not a single stitch of clothing covered him except for the white loincloth. Puffs of feathers were glued randomly on his chest. His neck carried the mark of strangulation. Mouth blue and purple, with blood dripping like ribbons.

And a gaping hole where his heart was supposed to be.

Present trainees murmured around him; a circle of buzzing bees, and that faint sound of some captains shouts.

They found out?

Danger, danger, danger.

Was Quinn killed by these people?

The smell of rotting flesh stung at Riki's nose.

He heard footsteps behind him. Then the warmth of a wide chest stuck to his back. He blinked.

Am I going to die?

Riki turned. Slow and his hand pervaded by tremors.

Black glued to blue. Sharp, steady, sizzling.

"You are coming with me." Iason said.

A command.

Riki started. "What..." Iason sneered. His hand closed on Riki's shoulder. A friendly gesture from out, iron tongs from within.

Despair for escape.

"We'll be talking a lot from now on," Then a drawl and a cursive tone on his name. "Riki."

Riki gulped.

Am I going to die by these guy's hands?


	9. Ninth Feather (Retouched)

Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock. Tick—

The clock let out a mechanical cuckoo, the hands sliding to set on the 3.

"Argh-"

Riki tried to move his sore arms. Useless. Waste of time. _Fucking hell this..._ It made it that the thin chains sharply dug into bruised wrists, thick drops of blood dripping to stain the pristine blue carpet.

_—SLASH!_

"You fuckers..." Rivets of saliva mixed blood spewed out of of his mouth. Making hairs stick to his cheeks. How annoying. Riki glared at the proud figure with all he had, Vdia's way of torture was notorious of the amount of inflicted pain. Glorified even. "You fuckers know to dress nice." He spat. "But you don't have ears! I ain't telling you a thing."

_But it is not enough._

He snickered through the pain, pervading his body like pins.

_Never enough for him._

"You are tardy, Daryl."

Smooth clicks of Iason's boots filled the air.

"My apologies, sir." Daryl moved away smoothly, leaving the cool, leather whip to be taken up by fair, gloved hands.

A handle shaped like an oriental dragon, the long piece of leather mimicking that of its body, and ending in a fiery tail. Iason sighed at the whip's detail.

Excellent.

Perfect.

'Just as it should be.'

_—SLASH!_

Riki bit his lips gulping down a mouthful of bile. His belly churned. He snorted. If he let go and vomited right here, only blood will come out.

The bastards had it good when it came to innovative torture devices.

_**Sick bastards.**_

"...masochistic and barbaric." He chuckled. _"You make for a perfect sexual slave." _Riki hissed.

Hitting it here it hurt most.

-was the best way to go with these types, Iason devised. It should work nicely.

But after more so of it, he released a sharp breath. It wasn't working. His perfect technique wasn't working. Riki had noticed the bait he laid. Immediately. Though he, himself took an interest. He was sure Daryl did too. Humailiating ah.. Iason was dragging it out more than required.

It prickled in him. Even now.

(Oh- the irony of it all! And he had been chiding Daryl for being tardy..? Laughable.)p

But, the truth made him sigh, in desperate times, there is a need for desperate measures, isn't that so. And in this desperate times, this black boy, was his entertainment. Only entertainment. Raoul was kept buzzing with the other one's physical health. And others were either collecting provisions, or out cleaning the next city for the soldiers.

As the only one who had some time, Iason was tasked with a job of "cleaning cat's fur of fleas," as Raoul had put it so.

_Pure dark stringy hair. Eyes that look so strongly against his slick praises. The pleasing strut of unbending legs..._ Iason softly sighed, the air chilly against his dampened lips, _Riki of the Dark.. was at biting point... Wasn't he?_

"Riki..."

He wasn't against taking a nip.

The boy was arrogant, as per the rumours and Katze had said. Nothing too surprising. But Riki too stubborn. Too unyielding. Too feral.

A slight reddish glint wavered in the depths of his brain.

This is not how it's supposed to be. The plot must be followed.

He gripped Riki's hair—too clean for a supposed barbarian—and slightly pulled. Once, twice, thrice, another tug... _"Rik-ki._" He liked that. Drawling out that strange name through the surface of his tongue and out the tip of his teeth.

A glass shattered as Riki's head was brought swiftly on the metal table.

Riki coughed, a large mouthful of blood spurting out from his mouth, flooding the table and covering his side turned face. Bathing in his Wien blood. He could hear slight snickers. Iason Fucking Mink. He grit his teeth.

"G..uy.."

Riki's hands curled on a piece of glass, lifting it up, then letting fall.

He wondered whether he actually deserved this.

Whether he was stupid for taking up this job.

No.. That was sure. He was stupid.

But.. Riki's vision dulled before hard blue eyes. Could he would ever see Guy again?

He had the breath left to smirk.

_Probably not._

Then darkness.

Iason eyed the limp body.

.

A bit rough around the edges.

But it'll do fine, once he's trained.

There's _plenty of time_ ahead after all.

.

Staring at the clock, he nonchalantly swished away some wet strands of dark hair, revealing sparkly studs, embossed meticulously with the emblem of Niver. _Oh.. Yes._

Angel's blue eyes glittering, he sneered.

_Well, isn't this nice._

* * *

"Do you feel pain in you head?" Raoul carefully picked out a vial of dark green medicine, among the hundreds of others that glinted off the candlelight. The young man only stared at the window, silent.

"I'm talking to you, Quinn."

Odd eyes glared up from long sandy brown bangs.

"...I'm fine."


End file.
